weather – Page 7 – Roadkill Crossing

Birds at My Window

A male Northern Cardinal inspects the safflower seeds at my window feeder. © Bruce Stambaugh

It’s the best of both worlds. I can work on my laptop and watch the birds simultaneously.

I was gifted a clear plastic birdfeeder that sticks to a window via two suction cups. However, with two birdfeeders hanging nearby from the front yard red maple tree, I doubted birds would be attracted to it. The birds proved me wrong.

The hanging feeders held chipped sunflower seed hearts and black oil sunflower seeds. I filled the window feeder’s floor with safflower seeds to keep squirrels and other birds, such as common grackles and European starlings, away. Most bird species don’t like safflower seeds.

Once birds found the feeder, they kept coming, though irregularly. Northern Cardinals, Carolina Wrens, Carolina Chickadees, House Finches, and Purple Finches are among the species that frequent the feeder.

It’s made my days more enjoyable. The Northern Cardinals are often the first and last to enjoy the seeds daily, coming at the first and last light of the day. It’s a good way to start and end the day while writing or reading on my laptop.

I have learned to sit still and let them eat. Any little movement can startle them. The female and male Northern Cardinals eye the seed, pick one, and roll it rapidly with crushing bills until they reach the seed’s meat. The cracked shells fall to the floor of the feeder, which I regularly clean by hand.

Please click on the photos to enlarge them.

The Carolina Wrens seem to be looking more for morsels of the seed and insects that happened to be in the feeder. The beautiful, busy birds are antsy and cautious as they search the feeder. They seldom stay long.

Only the female Purple Finches have come to the window. Even then, they were skittish and spooked at any movement. Consequently, I have learned to roll my office chair away from my desk and raise my phone with the long lens, ready for any shots I can get. That setting works best since the feeder is less than a foot away. Still, I might only get one shot before the birds dart away.

The feeder sits to the right side of the eight-paned window, less than a foot away from my computer. A pencil holder, a small basket with notes, and small notepads serve as a partial shield for me.

Also, I’ve noticed that the birds seem more comfortable in the feeder than in front of the glass window. Perhaps the birds’ visibility is not as sharp due to the plastic feeder’s large suction cups and the bent, molded sides and roof. Plus, the covered feeder keeps the seeds dry from rain and snow. Partially protected by the window sill and frame, even gusty winds don’t shake the feeder.

I am most grateful for these opportunities to observe and record the many bird behaviors and pecking orders exhibited. I enjoy hearing the House Finches twitter to one another as they eat, and other birds quietly enjoy their meals.

The observations teach me to be patient and still, if I genuinely want to learn from my feathered friends.

This pair of House Finches flew as soon as I captured the shot. Photo by Bruce Stambaugh

How We Celebrated Our Anniversary

The pastoral landscape we enjoyed. Photo by Bruce Stambaugh

The weather was similar to the day we married 54 years ago, mostly sunny and warm. So, we decided to celebrate our anniversary by enjoying the scenic outdoors in Virginia’s Shenandoah Valley.

We drove the country roads in two Virginia counties, where Old Order Mennonite farms dominate rolling landscapes at the foot of the Allegheny Mountains. Those families have kept the farms intact for the most part. Generations have raised crops and livestock, including poultry, without selling off their prized road frontage for homes or small businesses. They must enjoy the scenery and quiet, too.

Despite the lack of rainfall, succulent green grasses for beef cattle, dairy cows, and plump sheep brimmed beneath tree-dotted pastures. Cottony clouds sailed overhead in the cerulean sky.

We visited a local birding hotspot across from a plain but pristine Old Order Mennonite church, where the men and women sit in benches on opposite sides after filing through separate doorways. Killdeer, Pectoral Sandpipers, and Canada Geese called and preened in the morning’s warmth, while pairs of Tree Swallows divebombed me for being too close to their birdbox.

Pectoral Sandpipers. Photo by Bruce Stambaugh

We turned onto a narrow, notoriously bumpy road that led to a mountain reservoir. A stream rushed between the mountains’ steep, forested foothills, marking the boundary between Virginia and West Virginia. Mint-colored leaves had only sprouted, allowing views of rock-filled talus slopes.

At the reservoir, the azure sky commanded the scene. Far below on its shores, fishermen plied the still water that mirrored the blue canopy overhead.

Though in no hurry, we kept driving south to our lunchtime destination. We wound up, down, and around onto primary roads and entered a historic, small southern city where artists and restaurants have replaced millineries, general stores, and saloons. We spied the old railroad station two city blocks away, where Amtrak and excursion trains still stop.

We were delighted to find a restaurant serving fresh seafood and luscious desserts. However, my wife diligently discovered an old-fashioned drive-in a mile away serving the best hot fudge sundaes.

It had been decades since I had to push a button to order food. The speakers looked like those we had at drive-in movie theaters in the 1960s. Our sundaes arrived just as we ordered, with chocolate ice cream.

After the nostalgic pleasures, we headed west again toward the mountains before turning north. We passed ranches with lazy brooks snaking through green pastures occasionally speckled with grazing Black Angus cattle. Experienced farmers kept hilltop trees for cattle to gather on hot, humid Virginia days.

Drivers of the few vehicles that passed us waved the familiar index finger hello. If they know you, they point at you as a sign of recognition. We were fine with being admiring strangers.

Abandoned farmsteads stood on steep hillsides surrounded by trees planted ages ago. The houses were weathered and had broken windows, while many old outbuildings and barns had collapsed.

The long farm lanes that ended at white two-story houses and red bank barns reminded me of the happy, innocent Ohio days I drove down to pick up my fiancée. Like her lane, a small ridge of stubble grass divided the tire tracks.

The weather nearly matched the day we married all those years ago. Sunny skies and unseasonably warm temperatures dominated that precious day, too. However, the pungent smell of manure that the farmer had sprayed on the fields across from the country church was missing.

We made our way home happy, contented, and glad we had chosen to renew our vows so quietly, personally, amid welcome familiarity.

Steers graze on greening grass. Photo by Bruce Stambaugh

Spring Concert!

The Daffodil Choir sang an impressive concert at Edith J. Carrier Arboretum yesterday in Harrisonburg, Virginia. Their harmonic voices carried into the valley and reverberated throughout the surrounding woodlots.

Try as it might, no city or Interstate traffic noise could overpower these beautiful, angelic singers. I lost it when their four-part harmony sang “In the Blub There is a Flower.”

Sunset at Silver Lake

Silver Lake, Dayton, Virginia. Photo by Bruce Stambaugh

The broken cloud cover in the early evening looked promising for a decent sunset. It didn’t turn out that way.

When I reached Silver Lake in Dayton, Virginia, the puffy, cumulous clouds had dissipated, leaving only high, wispy cirrus clouds to reflect the sun’s rays. So, I looked east, north, and south instead of west.

The clouds in the southern sky particularly caught my attention. I hustled to the northern end of the popular fishing lake and was thrilled to find the evergreens reflected in the lea of the lake tinted by the mauve sky.

It wasn’t the photo I had expected, but I took what was given, which was all I could do.

Welcome to Spring!

Cloudy or sunny, our neighbor’s daffodils brighten our day. Photo by Bruce Stambaugh

It’s spring! The vernal equinox arrived at 5:01 this morning.

Hopefully, that will put to rest winter’s worst weather. At this time of year, any snowfall won’t last long in Virginia’s Shenandoah Valley.

Of course, nature’s course doesn’t hold to mankind’s arbitrary seasonal demarkations. I have noticed from afar the hint of coloration of the once-dormant trees that populate Mole Hill, a local and revered landmark. The buds of its red maple trees are especially evident.

A walk around our yard and neighborhood reveals other signs of springtime. Deciduous tree buds are swelling, if not opening, ornamental trees bloom, and a lone Hyacinth blooms. Lenten Rose plants are also blooming right on time despite their winter-singed leaves. The grass is greening and growing. I’ll have to ready the lawnmower for action.

Tulip leaves have knifed through the chilly soil. Migratory birds are slowly arriving while the year-round residents begin to stake out their nesting territories.

It’s springtime, and I couldn’t be happier as long as my allergy medicines remain effective.

Last Night’s Sunset

Yesterday, the western sky was hazy in the late afternoon. After supper, I kept watch and headed to my favorite spots for sunset photography in Rockingham County, Virginia.

Colorful sunsets aren’t always easy to come by here in the Shenandoah Valley. It may look promising early on, but clouds tend to hang over the Allegheny Mountains that mark the state line between Virginia and West Virginia.

Then, just when you want to give up, boom, the pinks and oranges glow, if only briefly. Other times, it’s a complete bust. Nevertheless, I’d rather be patient than miss a stunning sunset.

Last evening, I changed locations several times until the western sky popped with color. I wasn’t in the most desirable spot, but I am not complaining after capturing this muted beauty.

Amish Farm in Late Winter

An Amish farmstead near Mt. Hope, Ohio. Photo by Bruce Stambaugh

I recently visited my old stomping grounds in Holmes County, Ohio, home to the world’s largest Amish population. Remnants of snow still covered part of the ground, contrasting with the barren, fallow fields.

I enjoyed finding a few Amish farms, like the one pictured, remaining amid the rapidly expanding tourist businesses scattered throughout the once pristine countryside.

Snow Drops and One Imposter

One of these is not the same as the others. Photo by Bruce Stambaugh

Our across-the-street neighbors have lovely flower gardens for all who pass by to enjoy. Since their house faces south, the winter sun, when it shines, warms the front yard.

This, in turn, encourages flowers to bloom when the days warm into the 50s and 60s, like they have for the last few days. I went over to photograph the Snow Drops and discovered that a lone Hyacinth had joined dainty white flowers in showing off its lavender beauty.

These harbingers of spring were most welcome.

Winter Barns

Holstein Hillside. Photo by Bruce Stambaugh

Barns have always intrigued me. The various sizes, shapes, colors, conditions, purposes, and settings combine to make photogenic captures. Wintertime is no exception.

Here are a few I recently found.

Please click on the photos to enlarge them.

Red in the Whiteout

Male Northern Cardinal in a recent snowstorm.

My front yard birdfeeders are all on or under the red maple tree just outside my office window. That allows me to keep a keen eye on the comings and goings of the birds that frequent the feeders.

The birds really flock to the feeders before and during a snowstorm. The mix of birds includes the ground-feeding White-throated and White-crowned Sparrows and Dark-eyed Juncos. American Goldfinch, Purple Finch, and House Finch dominate the squirrel-proof hanging tube feeders. They also will feed on the ground, savaging for any seeds that drop from the feeders overhead.

If the army of European Starlings arrives, chaos ensues. The desired birds yield to the noisy and aggressive Starlings. That includes the dependable Northern Cardinals, which brighten the scene with their attractive colors. The female’s red-tinged olive feathers keep her camouflaged during nesting time, while her mate stands out in his all-red coat.

As brightly colored as the black-masked male Northern Cardinals are, they are fairly skittish and passive compared to other birds, like the Carolina Wrens and especially the Starlings.

The male Northern Cardinal in the photo waited on a branch above the feeding frenzy, awaiting an opportunity to fuel up undisturbed. That allowed me to capture the brilliant red in the falling snow.